


Don’t call me Bones!

by Toinette93



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Gen, Hurt!Spock, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Procedures, POV First Person, POV Leonard "Bones" McCoy, This is really Spock whump, emotionally hurt Kirk and Bones, landing party setting, no beta we die like red-shirts, not a native speaker, pretty angsty, very graphic description of 19th century style surgical procedures, with a LOT of hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22753552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toinette93/pseuds/Toinette93
Summary: “Bones!”“Jim, please, don’t call me that right now”“Doctor?” Jim says in a small plaintive voice.Looking at the unconscious Vulcan on the table, and contemplating what I’m about to do, hell I barely deserve the title.“I’m sorry, Jim” I answer, grimly. “I’m going to need your help”--On a landing party, on a pre-warp planet, separated from the ship and with very little supplies, Kirk and McCoy have to find, and help a badly injured Spock. For Dr McCoy it means dealing with some fairly barbaric medical methods.--
Relationships: James T. Kirk & Leonard "Bones" McCoy & Spock
Comments: 42
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

The green-blooded hobgoblin had better be alive when we get there. I almost had to yell at  Jim so he would agree to take a break. Heaven knows he nee ds one. And so d o I. Believe me, I want to get there too, but we have barely slept in three days, riding for hours, and we have just entered the forest. In the middle of the night, it is a treacherous path and the last thing Spock needs is for us to break our necks. The only thing that stopped Jim, though, is the fact our horses – or whatever those beasts are, won’t survive at that pace much longer. And we need them to get the supplies to Spock in time. We won’t stop long, a few hours  at most and I doubt Jim will sleep. I have to. There is no way my hands will be steady enough to operate when we get there and if what Spock told us of his injury is accurate, I’m going to have to operate. And so I’m setting camp, making fire, and cooking some food that neither of us feels like eating, while Jim takes care of the horses. 

I have a look at the tricorder. Still not picking up any life signs, even if the  distress  beacon  that Spock’s communicator is still emitting is telling me we are only about 20km away.  At least we did not get lost, and are going in the right direction.  I hope we get there on time. Spock has not been contacting us for quite a while,  and well, I sure hope it’s just communications issues. The damn thi ngs barely work with all this interference. I’m sure he’ll be alright. He’d better be, the bastard. The loss of Ensign LeGoff is hard enough on Jim. She was a good  officer . 

I  can’t believe how fast this mission went south. Well, I do, I should be used to it by now. It was supposed to be a fairly simple mission, if that even exists on the Enterprise. Worst thing is, it still kind of is. What happened to the hobgoblin and LeGoff was just an accident. But they are so far from help we might not get there on time.  It started a few days ago. We had beamed down in parties of two to the surface of Rho Theta 5, wonder who’s the idiot who found that mouthful of a name. It was supposed to be your run-of-the-mill study of a pre-warp planet. About the level of technical development of 1800 Europe, the new ship historian we got told us. Now, she’s a lot more competent than McGyver was.  Not that it’s particularly hard. Can’t for the life of me remember her name though. The inhabitants here are humanoid, and really very much like us. I’m starting to think the universe lacks imagination.  Anyhow. Will that water boil, already. We have very little time. Jim is staying long enough with the horses. Gives him comfort I figure. More that a grouchy old doctor possibly could at the moment anyhow. So we beamed down. There were five teams in total, two beam-downs. The prime directive was in full effect. We were not supposed to have any contact  **at all** with the population. Well, that went well. I don’t think they figured out Jim and I were not from around here though. And we needed the supplies. 

We were cut off from the Enterprise. Still are. Hell, would not be trudging along  in the middle of a forest on horseback if we had access to the transporters. There was a violent ion-storm, got there extremely suddenly. This part of space is so unknown, we had no idea it would happen. Kirk insisted we beamed up last, and they did not manage to raise Spock fast enough. And since it was getting dangerous to beam people up, from the interference, they replicated us copies of the place’s money and sent them to us. Some of it arrived melted - so definitely a god hing they did not beam us up then - but most of it is still good. So we’re rich. Stranded, but rich. Cause, yeah, next, the storm started to wreck havoc on the ship. It wouldn’t have destroyed her, mind, but it was putting the crew at risk of injury, and we couldn’t have that. So Jim ordered the Enterprise to leave and come back when it was safe  to do so. The planet is not particularly dangerous. Nice atmosphere protecting us from the iron storm, warm climate – it’s the middle of summer here, but the heat would not normally be an issue – and enough supplies and empty spaces to last for a while without needing to talk to the locals. And money in case we do. That was good thinking from Mr Scott. Might yet save Spock’s life.  So, as I said, safe enough planet, and at first it was almost like shore-leave. Jim and I walked around, staying out of sight for the most part, and it is one beautiful planet. 

There, that looks like something edible. 

“Jim,  dinner’s ready.”

“I’m coming, Bones.”


	2. Chapter 2

The food tastes foul. I checked, of course, and it’s appropriate for human consumption, but it tastes rotten. And I’m normally not a bad cook, thank you very much. Well, those aliens are a lot like us but they have weird taste buds. I tried to talk to Jim. He didn’t let me. Now he’s eating without even looking at his plate. I bet he’s not even tasting the damn thing. Good for him, mind. I think he’s angry at me for insisting we stop, even if he knows I’m right. I mean, he’s in command, I can’t stop him if he wants us to walk around in the middle of the night, and of course I’ll follow him if it comes to that. But it won’t. Jim’s far too good at his job for such a thing. I wish I could tell him Spock will be fine. Truth is, I don’t know. It will have taken us over three days to get to him. It’s a long time going without medical care with that kind of injury, even for a Vulcan. And still no life signs showing on the tricorder, and no more contact.

Jim has finished eating, and so have I. He’s put some proximity alarm and we’re going to try and sleep. We’ve got three hours before this planet’s moon appears and give us enough light to keep on going. I’ve put a wake up call. Jim is tossin’ and turnin’. I doubt he’ll get any shut-eye. I can’t forget his face when he got the news.

Almost three days ago. We had been out of contact with the ship for a few hours. My communicator chirped. Now that someone would contact me and not Jim generally wasn’t a good sign. I had hoped it was the ship. “Spock to DrMcCoy” the thing went. Now that was even more worrying. The signal was not good but still I did not like the sound of our resident Half-Elf’s voice. “McCoy here” I answered. Jim who had been fixing a fire at the time started listening intently. There was also a lot of noise in the background. Explosions and the like, but not the kind our type of weapon would make. “Doctor. Ensign LeGoff and myself have been injured. I believe that she is in fact dead. We require medical assistance.” His voice was strained and you could hear pain in it. I freezed for an instant. “Spock, are you in any immediate danger from your surroundings. What is it we are hearing?” asked the captain.

“We appear to have stumbled on the outskirts of a battlefield, captain. It is at present moving away from us. We were not the intended target of any hostile activity. LeGoff and I appear to have been hit by a stray bullet. Or more accurately stray cannonball.”

Now I sure did not like the sound of that. Even at long range a cannonball could do a lot of damage. And Spock and LeGoff were almost 200km away from us.

“Can you describe your injuries and those of Ensign LeGoff, Spock?” I asked

“I cannot describe LeGoff’s injury as I fell into a ditch and am unable to stand up at present. However, my tricorder is not recording any life signs.” Spock’s voice paused, and we could here his heavy breathing. My knuckles on the communicator were going white.“As for myself, I had my hands behind my back and the cannonball, having previously injured Ensign LeGoff met my left hip and left arm.”

“How bad is the bleeding, Spock?”

“The bleeding from the hip has stopped. I have however, encountered difficulty to stop the bleeding from my arm. I believe some major blood vessels have been compromised. I am applying pressure.”

“But you don’t know how long you can stay conscious that way? And you might need to go into a healing trance, but it may be bleeding to much for it to be enough, right?”

“Precisely.”

“Any access to medical supplies?”

“None, doctor. Ensign LeGoff had the appropriate first aid kit with her and I cannot retrieve it at this time.”

“Right.”

I could feel Jim’s worry, but he knew he needed to let me do my job. And he did.

“Listen, can you make a makeshift tourniquet from your tricorder strap? You need to stop the bleeding. I don’t like to potentially leave it on that long but we don’t really have a choice.”

He’d done that. And the bleeding had stopped. I’d then talked him through everything I could think of with whatever was available to try and ensure he’d survive until we got there. The captain ordered him to send an automated distress signal from his communicator. The people on the planet did not have an advanced enough technology to pick it up and there was a small chance a ship would before we would get to him. Spock obeyed and I stopped him from quoting the actual odds at Jim. Even I could tell they were pretty low. “Hang on in there, Spock, we’re coming for you.” concluded the captain before we stopped the transmission.


	3. Chapter 3

I wake up three hours later to the sound of the alarm. I have managed to sleep. As a physician and a surgeon I’ve learnt a long while ago how to sleep anywhere, anytime, whenever the opportunity presents itself. A literally life-saving skill to have on several occasion, and one that a certain starship captain usually shares. I find out on getting up however, that the horses are ready. Kirk has probably not slept at all. He rarely does when Spock is in trouble, a habit the hobgoblin certainly shares. Those two are incredibly close and I don’t want to think what would happen to one of them should the other die. And I’d definitely miss them too. Yes, even the Spock. Still no life-signs showing up on the tricorder. Spock, you’d better be alive when we get there.

The horses walk at a good pace. I call them horses, but they are really not. I just don’t have no idea what they’re called but they sure react very much like horses. Which is good, couldn’t have rode them otherwise. They are stronger than terran horses anyhow, if a bit slower. We bought them, the three of them, when we got the call from Spock. I was busy despairing calculating we’d never be there on time on foot, but Kirk, he never calls himself beaten. He got us the horses. Three of them Thank heavens for the universal translator, it worked. He also got food, and equipment, so we could last without having to go back to the civilization for a while. Tents and the like.

I went to buy medicinal supplies, and I got one of their surgeon’s kit. Cause to make things worse I don’t even have enough to operate with me. We were only supposed to be there for a few hours each day, beaming back at night, always in sight of the ship. I’ve only got my field medikit and the drugs I do have are for humans. It’s hard enough to have drugs that Jim’ll tolerate, and I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near Spock. I still have more in there than per-regulation, thankfully, but I’m afraid it won’t be enough. Kirk’s quick thinking in getting us horses at least gives Spock a fighting chance. But he was supposed to call us regularly and he stopped after the first day, we’ve been unable to raise him. He could have transmission problem or be in a healing trance. I check my supplies again. If he’s alive we should be getting a signal soon. Jim is pushing his mount in front of me. I’m having a look at my tricorder.

“Jim. I’ve got a life-sign. Bearing and distance corresponding to Spock’s position. We’re 9km from him. We can be there in under an hour”

The captain looks at my tricorder and I see the look of absolute relief on his face.

“Can you tell what state he’s in?”

“I can’t tell much from here, and it is pretty weak. But it’s there. Spock’s alive.”

“Well let’s hurry and make sure he stays that way” he answers, pushing his horse forward.

I follow. We do not talk. The hour is spent trying to get as much speed as we can from our exhausted mounts. Thankfully, Kirk, the Iowa farm-boy is a good horse rider, and I am not bad myself. I doubt the hobgoblin has any experience in this field. Finally the signal is closing. There are some signs of artillery fire on the trees around us, but no other life signs apart from the forest animals and Spock. We have only seen one corpse so far. Seems like this was not the heart of the battlefield. It really was a stray cannonball. There, a small clearing. In the middle of it a body, and at the end, a ditch. I jump from my horse, medical scanner in hand, and run the last few meters. It’s LeGoff’s body, and I don’t need more than a glance to confirm she is dead. It’s not a pretty sight. The projectile apparently went right through her. She must have died quickly enough, although probably not painlessly. I stumble down the ditch. I hear Jim behind me. He has attached the horses to a tree and is also running toward his first officer.

Spock is there all right. He is laying on his right side, surounded by dried green blood, but I can see him raggedly breathing. The left side of his body is covered in blood, and looks messy. But he breathes. “He’s alive, Jim”, I say to the captain who is now clambering down the slope. Then I look at the result of the medical scanner I had started using on him and add, muttering to myself “just barely”.


	4. Chapter 4

I kneel down next to Spock and start to take a look at his wounds. The hip injury seems to be all but healed. From a healing trance, probably. There maybe some corrective surgery to do at some point, but nothing urgent. His arm is a whole other story. What’s most noticeable is the smell. The bleeding has stopped, and Spock has apparently gotten the tourniquet out at some point, but it has been there long, and the limb has started rotting. Gangrene. The hand is black and appears lifeless. This would be an awful injury on a human. On a Vulcan, a touch-telepath whose hands are the most sensitive part of the body, it is even worse. I’ve been looking at these wounds for about a minute but it's hard to know more with so little light and in a muddy ditch. I have to move him, no matter how little I want to. I get gloves out of my medikit and put them on. Now my scanner is telling me the man has a high fever. I could have told you that from a touch. He’s warmer than me, even if not by much and that is not normal for our resident cold-blooded Vulcan. I can see Jim hovering over me. I give a tense smile and put my gloved hand on the Vulcan’s shoulder, mindful of his injury. I am facing him.

“Mr Spock. Can you hear me. It’s doctor McCoy.”

He opens his eyes at that, but there does not seem to be any sign of recognition in them for a while.

“Spock” I repeat.

“Come on, Spock” adds the captain.

He mumbles something that could be “Jim?” but could as well be something else. I need to start treating him and fast. Jim is shutting down the automated distress signal. We are a bit too close to Klingon space for it to be advisable now that we are here.

“Spock, we’re here, you’re alright. We’re gonna help you ok? I’m gonna have to look at your injuries it might hurt, I’m sorry.”

Then turning to the captain I add

“Jim I’m going to need to get him somewhere cleaner pretty soon, can you set up a table?”

Jim nods and goes to prepare things. We’re also going to have to bury LeGoff’s body, but the first priority right now is Spock. And it’s not looking too good. I immobilize his wounded limbs so that I can move him, and give him a hypo of the only painkiller I have that won’t disagree with his hybrid physiology. I don’t have a lot of it, and it’s not nearly strong enough, but it’s the best I can do for now. I also give him some all-purpose antibiotics. I don’t really have anything to bring the fever down. I hope some of the herbs that I have bought at the village will actually help. I’m trying to be as gentle as I can but the light from the tricorder is barely enough to see what I’m doing as the sun is barely starting to go up, and every time I touch anywhere on his arm near his elbow, he whimpers and tries to move away. More concerning, his left hand seems to be completely numb.

I’m pretty sure Spock would tell me I’m being illogical, but he sounds scared, and so I try to reassure him as I’d do with any patient. “You’re going to be alright” I tell him again and again, even as I am not sure it is true. Finally Kirk comes back, having set up a table and a tent, to protect him from the heat once the sun is fully up. I have gotten Spock as ready to be moved as he is going to get, and with Kirk helping me, I get him on the table. I give him some water that he has trouble swallowing, but he needs it, and then start cleaning him up, cutting away his clothes from the wounds and looking at them more precisely. Kirk’s anguish is palpable, seeing his friend in that state, and I refrain from giving a live commentary on the severity of what I’m looking at. I first take care of the hip, cleaning and wrapping the healing wound. Spock sure doesn’t need another source of infection. It’s the arm I’m more scared about. As I’m about to cut the last piece of fabric over his arm, I turn to the captain.

“Jim, I need to be real precise here, can you walk to the other side of him, and try and keep him calm?”

I could have done that myself, but I know I don’t want Jim to see what’s under there without some preparation from his old country doctor. The captain’s not squeamish but badly infected wounds are not something we see all that often in this day and age, and it’s his best friend we’re talking about here. It does not look good. Once the fabric is off, turns out it was what was mostly holding the arm together. Strong starfleet-issue gear.

Now I understand why surgeons of cannonball-wounds era wrote that a limb would be disorganized. This is a pretty apt description of what I am looking at. The radius is still partly complete somehow although cracked in several places, and there is not much of an ulna to speak of. And the whole thing is black, stinks and is insensitive to the touch. Now, it would already be a hard task to save his arm with modern day technology but with what I’ve got here… It’s already spread almost to the elbow, and it’s unlikely to stop anytime soon. I’m going to have to amputate. With limited supplies and antiquated instruments. I pale at the thought. I try not to show it, but obviously fail at that, because Jim notices.

“Bones!” I don’t think and answer:

“Jim, please, don’t call me that right now” The nickname is far too on-point now that I am literally going to saw bones.

“Doctor?” Jim says in a small plaintive voice.

Looking at the unconscious Vulcan on the table, and contemplating what I’m about to do, hell I barely deserve the title.

“I’m sorry, Jim” I answer, grimly. “I’m going to need your help”

I contemplate what I have at disposal and I know I’m going to need him to help stop the bleeding once I start cutting. I don’t like to operate on someone that weak, but I can’t really delay either, and hopefully his Vulcan strength will pull him through.

“What with, doctor?”

I take Jim aside “I’m gonna have to amputate, Jim.”

I see the look of absolute betrayal in the captain’s eyes and I have to steel myself not to take a step back.

“No, I can’t accept that. There must be an alternative.”

“I’m sorry, captain, I don’t like it anymore than you do, but if I don’t do it in the next few hours he’ll die. Now, with injuries in that state, it would have been unlikely to keep his arm even on the ship. Here, it’s the only thing I can do. I’m going to have to tell him that.”

There is a bit of anger in my voice, and I know how unfair it is, but Jim deflates immediately and put a hand silently on my shoulder. “I trust you, Bones.” I shudder at the nickname. “Do what you must.”


	5. Chapter 5

I am preparing for surgery. With Jim’s help, I have managed to rig enough lighting from the emergency lights we had in our Starfleet pack to at least see what I’m doing. It’s dawn, and the sun with also help. I’m using a tree stump on which I put a clean sheet, to lay out my instruments and prepare. Jim’s staying with Spock. He’s supposed to try to get him to understand what we have to do. I have tried to ask him, but he’s in no state to give informed consent. I hate having to do without it, but I’m sure as hell not going to let him die. I’m sure he’d say operatin is the logical thing to do. At least I hope so.

Now let’s see what instruments I have, and what I’m missing. Thankfully, I’ve got a portable sterile field. Not as big as I would like it to be, it’s going to be a bit tight, but at least the table, the instruments and my and Jim’s hands will be clean. I have my tricorder for monitoring and a portable dermal regenerator – Jim will find a way to cut himself on something at some point. I am glad I have it now.

The main problem I have is for anesthesia. I don’t have enough anesthetic, our resident Vulcan burns through the standard stuff I have like a forest fire. And what I do have is a local anesthetic. I am afraid I won’t have much more than a quarter of an hour to operate, including tying the arteries shut and closing the wound and that’s going to be really short. I’m gonna have to operate fast, pre-anesthesia style. Jim will have to get Spock to stay still.

The other main thing is, I don’t have laser scalpel. Or any kind of scalpel really. Well, to operate in such a short time, it probably would not have been ideal anyway. But I’m none too happy about the surgical case I’ve bought. Now I recognize the instruments. Never thought the elective course in history of surgical instruments at medical school would end up being useful, turns out I was wrong. Good thing that I paid attention. But recognizing them and even having some training as to how to use them doesn’t mean I feel comfortable doing it. There, all laid out on the table, very similar to our Earth’s 1800s medicine. A one-bladed knife, to cut through skin and muscle. A retractor, to get the skin out of the way when you cut the next layers. The needle and thread to ty the arteries. At least I’ll be able to close the wound somewhat with the dermal regenerator. And ominously almost looking at me the bone saw. I take it in hand. The handle is comfortable enough, it’s a good saw, but to use it on a bone. It’s barbaric, it’s what it is. And from what I gathered from their medical supplies, they do it without anesthesia. I’m glad I’m not going to do that. But I have to admit I have some admiration for the surgeon of those times and place. Even with barbaric means, they are still doing what they can, and inflicting pain in order to first do no harm must not be an easy position to be in.

So I’ve got everything, and I’ve got a good idea how to proceed. I doubt this kind of method has been used in centuries. I’m about as ready as I’m going to get. Time to call Jim. He’ll have a hard job to do and I doubt anythin’ has really prepared him for that.

“Jim. Can you come here a second.”

He arrives. I see him pale as he notices the saw.

“B- Len! You’re not really going to use that are you?”

“Don’t have much choice, Jim. Listen I’m going to need you to do three things. Pass me the instruments when I ask you to. Make sure the makeshift tourniquet works to stop the blood, and if needed grab an artery between your thumb and forefinger to stop it from bleeding, and most importantly, keep Spock calm and still.”

“He’ll be conscious?”

“Yeah. He won’t feel pain, I’ll anesthetize the arm, but I don’t have what’s needed for general anesthesia. And I’ll have to be quick. So make sure he doesn’t panic and doesn’t move.”

I see the doubt on his face, even if it’s just a second. I know him well.

“You’ll manage Jim.” He has to. “Have you talked to Spock?”

“I’ve tried, but I don’t know how much he understood.”

“Well this will have to do.”

I explain to Jim exactly what it is that I’m going to do, and what instruments do what. And then we go back to Spock’s side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Am i stalling ? A bit, maybe. But stuff will actually happen in the next chapter, promise. I hope you are enjoying this and please feel free to comment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: graphic description of a surgical procedure.

“Spock.” I touch his left shoulder, mindful not to get into direct contact with the skin. “I’m gonna have to cut your left arm. Do you understand what I’m sayin?”

I see a hint of recognition on his face  but not much more. Does he look a bit more lucid, or am I just getting my hopes up too much? I seat him up using one of our bags as a support, and ask Jim to stand behind him with the instruments. I activate the sterile field.  Now, no matter what the hobgoblin may say, I can control my emotions when needed. I’m a surgeon, I can focus on a job. But this sure is hard. I get myself in check and start the anesthesia. The captain has gotten himself in control too, although I can see how much it pains him. He is busy keeping Spock still. In his feverish state our Vulcan doesn’t understand why he can’t feel his arm and Jim has to order him not to move. Spock obeys, he’d follow Jim even if it meant his death, and I know Jim hates it that he had to have recourse to that  kind of loyalty . Jim has a hand on Spock’s back, and Spock’s leaning into it. 

There, the anesthesia has set.  I  put the tourniquet on  then ask Jim for the knife.  I do a first, shallow cut to get the skin off. I put the knife down and ask Jim for the retractor. With it, I get the skin out of the way. You need to cut more skin than muscle and bone, you see. So that you can cover the wound with the extra skin. Not pretty but  it will make the closing with the dermal regenerator that is not made for that kind of wound a bit easier. There done. Now the muscles. This is where it’s really going to get bloody. I check the tourniquet. It’s well in place, but it’s makeshift, and I don’t trust it too much. I’m cutting muscles now, circularly again. I’m getting Jim to present me the arm, turning it around. Tourniquet’s holding. Good. I sure would not want to test Jim’s abilities at holding an artery with his fingers. One cuts, two cuts. I see the bone. It’s naked now. I’m three minutes in. Not bad for a first time. Spock is twitching a bit. 

“Jim, pass me the saw, and hold Spock, he’s got to stay still.”

The captain does as he’s told. He’s holding Spock, telling him he’s going to be ok. I’m not sure half of what he is saying is in any known language but it seems to be getting the job done. I’m concentrating on mine. Sawing a Vulcan humerus. Damn high bone density, this is hard. Gravity is much closer to Earth than Vulcan here. I hope the saw holds. I don’t have anything else, and this needs to be a clean break. I actually have to lean into it, put my strength in there, but it is working. Even with the tourniquet there is quite a bit of blood. It is not completely tight. The bone is cut through. I can hear Jim’s teeth clenching from here. Eight minutes in. Damn, the bone took too long. I throw the arm away. I get a tricorder reading. It confirms I cut in the right place. No trace of gangrene here. And Spock seems to be mostly holding up. Blood pressure is even lower than usual and heart rate even higher, and he’s got a fever but he’s still half-conscious and the vitals are not low enough to be really dangerous. Well, not too much worse than before I started to operate. I put the saw down.

“Thread and needle” I ask Jim, and I believe the disgust is palpable in my voice. Good thing we still learn to saw in medical school, just in case. Tying arteries is a tricky business. I can’t risk damaging nerves. I’m thinking about the prosthetic there, and about phantom pains. Spock will serve again damnit, he is the best first officer in the fleet. And he knows I think that anyway by now, so I might even tell him  as much if he doesn’t die here. So I have to be fast – cause of the anesthesia risking to stop working any minute now – and take my time  so I don’t maim the poor devil even more . Talk about contradictory injunctions. I tie the biggest ones first, then work my way to the others. I’ll take them out in a few days. There done. Not a minute too soon either. As I use the dermal regenerator to close the wound, Jim murmurs a panicked

“Bones.” I can tell from my tricorder too. The K3 indicator is going up, and fast. The anesthesia is starting to stop working. Thankfully I’m done, because Spock starts trashing. I can’t have that. I pump him full of all the painkiller I can spare, and he loses consciousness.  Kirk is cradling his first officer, and once I’m done bandaging the wound, I help him set him down. I check my medical scanner. It could be worse. Jim is white as a sheet. He’s got green blood on his face. I sure have a lot on my hands. 

“Thanks Jim”. I tell him. Because I truly do not know what else to say. The sun is done rising. It is day. We get Spock in the tent Jim set up earlier, we need to keep him in the shade. I wash my hands. I keep an eye on Spock and start analyzing the medicinal plants I bought. Jim leaves to make food and bury LeGoff. I sure as hell hope there’s some painkillers and some stuff to get the fever down in there. Cause Spock’s going to need a lot of both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone,  
> As it seems a lot of my fanfic somehow end up having bibliographical notes, here is the reference for the surgical procedure described here:   
>  Dominique-Jean Larrey, Mémoires de chirurgie militaire et campagnes 1786-1840, Paris, Editions Tallandier, coll. « Bibliothèque Napoléonienne », 2004, p. 446.  
> Dominique-Jean Larrey was chief surgeon of Napoleon’s army and wrote a lot about amputation (amongst other things).   
> If you want any information on this I’ll be more than glad to provide it. I’ll even translate the original medical text into English for you if you ask in the comment. You might end up with more information than you want although I promise I will try to not rewrite my entire PhD thesis in the comment thread. Cause yeah, beware the PhD student! Aaandd the autistic girl with a special interest. :-)
> 
> Anyhow, hope you liked the chapter (which is the whole reason why I wrote the damn thing) and get ready for the next few chapters to finish the story. 
> 
> Live long and prosper, folks!


	7. Chapter 7

Well we got lucky it seems. Some of the plants I bought check out as fever reducers and painkillers. Now I just have to hope they work on a Half-Vulcan. And don’t provoke any ill-effects. I start preparing a mixture that Spock could swallow. I’m going to have to get him to drink. I managed to give him a bit of water before the surgery, and his desert-dweller physiology means he can stay without drinking a lot longer than us, but he has lost a lot of blood, and shows some early sign of dehydration. And I don’t have anything to set up an IV. I sent Jim to make soup. I’ll try to get some food in there too in a little while. I’m exhausted, but I can’t leave Spock alone at the moment. There is a risk his wound could reopen, and he could bleed out real fast. Jim and I will have to take turns staying awake and I’m taking the first one. I wish he could go into a healing trance, but he’s probably too weakened for that at the moment. Maybe once he drinks and eats some, and the fever goes down a bit he’ll manage. He needs to be fully conscious and coherent for it to work, and he is neither at the moment. I wish M’Benga were here. He knows more than I do about the trance. But he isn’t even on the ship, he’s taken a few weeks research leave.   
I can smell the soup boiling from here. We made it with different vegetables than yesterday. I hope it will be edible. I am done preparing the drugs from the plants, and Spock’s eyes are starting to flutter open. Now that’s some good timin’. The fever’s still high, but the rest of the readings are looking a bit better. The pain levels are a bit high, but I can’t give him anything at the moment. I has not been long enough since the last dose, and I have very little painkiller as it is. I am at Spock’s side, I have to stop him from trashing when he wakes. He starts to move.   
“Spock”  
He tries to get up. I help him sit up carefully. His stare is still glazed and I’m not sure he recognizes me, but I manage to get him to drink the water and the drugs with them. When Jim comes in with the soup, I even manage to get him to swallow some before he falls asleep again.   
A few hours later, after having tried to sleep for a while, Kirk sits down next to me.   
“Bones, is he going to be alright?”  
“If I can get him back to the ship, he’ll be fine. I’ll get him a prosthetic arm, and he’ll be able to serve again, it’ll just take a bit of time. But I need to get him to the ship. I can’t seem to get the fever down enough for him to go into a healing trance. And he needs it.”

During the night, the fever goes up. I am trying to get it down, but the herbs from the village are not enough. His Vulcan physiology just burns through them, and burning is the right word. Even for a human he would be warm to the touch. He is trashing and I have to wake up Jim, who had finally fallen asleep, to get him to help me to keep him still. I don’t trust my tied arteries all that much, I’m not all that used to thread and needles. I just don’t know how good of a job I did. I am reduced to getting Spock to drink, and trying to reduce the temperature. The ship has to arrive. I don’t know how long I can keep him alive without modern medicine. I don’t even think this fever is coming from the wounds. Both the stump and the hip look quite clean. He must just have been weakened enough to catch whatever was around. Right now Jim is probably more help than I am. He keeps Spock going, and me from despairing. He always has refused getting beaten. By the morning, our Vulcan is weak, but the fever has gone down, and there is focus in the first officer’s eyes again. 

And then the captain’s communicator finally, chirps. We almost don’t react to it. After an instant however, Jim opens it.   
“Enterprise to captain Kirk, come in, Captain.”  
“Uhura! How is the ship?”  
“The ship is fine, captain, minimal damage and no casualties. The ion-storm has abated and we are en route to pick you up.”  
“How long until you can be there.”  
“Two days at present speed, captain. We had to move quite a long way away, it was a very large storm.”  
Jim looks at me. I look at Spock who is asleep at the moment, still feverish and in quite a bit of pain, even with the edge taken off a bit. He is a far better than in the middle of the night but a lot could happen in two days. My concern must be visible on my face, and Jim nods.   
“How fast can you be there at maximum warp?”  
I know that Uhura is turning to Scotty at the moment. And it is, in fact, the Scottish engineer that answers.  
“Well, captain. I can get warp 8 maybe a wee bit more out of it. So I could be there in about 10 hours. What’s your status, sir?”   
“Le Goff’s dead. And Spock has been badly wounded. Doctor McCoy and myself managed to get to him but...”  
“I need to get him to sickbay as soon as possible, Scotty. I don’t have what I need to treat his injuries properly here.”  
“Any hostility from the locals, sir?” asks the chief engineer.   
“No Scotty” Kirk answers. “It was an accident. But the prime directive is still in effect, and we don’t want them to find us here. Nobody has been around for a few day, but I don’t know how long it will last. Our camouflage is good but not impenetrable.”  
“Aye, captain. We’ll be there as soon as we can. We’ll beam you directly to sickbay when we get there.”  
“Thank you, Scotty. Kirk out.”


	8. Chapter 8

I have Spock in sickbay, where he should be. I have finished treating his hip wound, checked my work on the stump – seems I did not do too much damage. I put a few IVs in him, and started treating the infection. The fever is gone, and he is sleeping, the monitor tells me. I’ve even gotten a bit of sleep – nurse Chapel’s glaring finally got to me – and got a shower. I feel a lot more like a human being.

I enter the room in sickbay where Spock is sleeping, to check him out some more. He has not been coherent enough yet to enter a healing trance, but he will be soon although I’m not sure he needs it anymore. It’s been a few days. He’s been awake a few times, but not more than a few minutes each. He should wake up more fully soon. Kirk is at Spock’s side, of course.  We are on our way to the nearest star-base for shore-leave and everything is quiet on the ship. It’s evening, and the captain has been off-shift for a few hours. He is asleep too, slumped on his chair next to his first officers’ bed, on his  right side so as not to risk touching his wounds, his hand centimeters from the Vulcan’s  still attached  one.  I’m going to send him to his quarters to sleep some as soon as I am done checking on Spock. Those two really are unbelievable. 

I  redo the bandage on the stump. It is healing well despite the way in which I had to  operate .  I still have trouble looking at the thing. I know I didn’t have a choice, but I still hate the fact I had to do that to him. I’m glad the hobgoblin is alive, at least. But I mutilated him. I don’t know how I’m gonna live with that. I’m supposed to be a doctor, not a butcher,  goddammit . I hope Spock will forgive me. Hell, he probably will,  the damn logical computer. Jim has already told me I did not do anything wrong. I don’t know. The ship came back quite fast, maybe he would have lived without the operation, maybe I could have saved his arm. I know, Spock is going to tell me I’m illogical. But I did that to him. 

I’ve been in contact with a Vulcan healer, in charge of a ward in the hospital on the starbase we will reach in two days. He told me there are possibilities to regrow an arm from stem-cell and auto-graft it. It has never worked too well in humans, but apparently it works a lot better on Vulcans. I never knew that. M’Benga would have known, probably, but he’s not there. The healer said he doesn’t know if it will work with how I operated. He seemed almost disgusted by what I had done, in his haughty, unemotional Vulcan way.  Well, I’m probably projecting. At least he did not seem bothered by Spock being a hybrid,  aside from the medical complications it might pose . For a species that theoretically embraces IDIC there are quite a few bigoted assholes amongst them who despise the hobgoblin for not being Vulcan enough. Bunch of assholes.  The healer said that if it works, Spock will have his touch telepathy more or less intact, even if it will take a few month to be back to normal. But the way I had to operate will probably make it a painful process. It will be Spock’s choice of course. I hope it works. There does not seem to be to much damage. The healer says that he will have to examine Spock himself, but the data I sent him allow for reasonable odds of success.

I  look at the readings. Spock is waking up. I rouse Jim, and point him towards his first officer. Since the readings look good, I’m going to give those two some time alone. I’m far too emotional at the moment for the Vulcan anyway. I need to get myself under control, before I talk to him. 

“I’m gonna let you two talk for a little while Jim. Ten minutes, no more, he still needs his rest and so do you.”

Kirk is not usually one to be expressive with his eyebrows but right now I can tell that he thinks I’m a pot calling the kettle black. Well I’m not the one who’s been sleeping on a chair for hours, now, am I?

“And then, I’ll also have to talk to Spock for a bit. ‘bout his arms.”

I check as Spock wakes up that he recognizes people, and is alert, and then I leave the two alone.  Before the door closes I hear Jim telling his first officer: “Well Mr. Spock. I’m glad you’re alive. You scared us for a while there.” and our Vulcan answers “I would tend to agree that it is the preferable outcome, captain.” I harrumph. Now he sounds like himself again. I never thought I’d be happy to hear  him sound so damn logical again . I sit down at my desk and proceed to get myself under control. My training makes it work. 


	9. Chapter 9

I walk back into the room. It’s been a bit more than 10minutes, and Spock probably knows it, if the captain doesn’t.

“Come on, Jim, get out of my sickbay, and stop pestering my patient. Go get some sleep.”

He sends me a look, but he does what I say. Now that Spock is awake and himself, Jim will probably be able to sleep again, even if I know he’s probably even more worried than me about the arm.

I check the Vulcan’s vitals again. It has not changed in the last quarter of an hour. Apart from some remaining tiredness – everything is a bit on the low side – and the arm, of course, he’s physically fit again. Quite a remarkable recovery. I grumble as much. I double-check. Yes, I’m stalling.

“Doctor, I believe that the readings are unlikely to change in between your checks. I furthermore assure you that I am quite alright.”

“Oh, and you finished medical school when exactly?” I answer, but after a last arguably unnecessarily thorough check, I sit down on the chair next to Spock. If I stay standing up, I’m gonna pace. I don’t know how to begin.

“Doctor, the captain mentioned there was something you wanted to discuss with me.” Spock prompts.

“Yeah, Spock, listen, hum. I’m sorry, about your arm, I… If we had gotten you on the ship sooner, you should have been able to keep it.” Damnit, I got to keep myself together. I bit my upper lip. “I’ve been in contact with a Vulcan Healer at Starbase 15 where we’re headed. He said there might be a way to regrow an arm, but with the way I operated he can’t be sure. He says the odds are pretty good that it will eventually work, but that it will be a lengthy and fairly painful process because the stump is not the way it should be. If it works you should get all your abilities back, with time. A prosthetic arm would work too, and probably faster.”

Spock does not answer more than by a nod. He seems to be lost in thought, probably figuring out the possibilities.

“Spock, I’m really sorry, I operated without your full consent and now...”

“There is no need to apologize doctor. The decision you took was logical. The captain told me of the difficult conditions in which you had to operate. I believe the correct human response to this situation would be to thank you, doctor. Now if you will clear me from sickbay, I will be able to go back to my duties.”

Now what do I answer to that!?

“Well, I’m sure as hell not going to clear you for duty, you just lost a limb for god’s sake. I’m keeping you under observation in sickbay for at least 24 hours, and then I’ll send you to your quarters on medical leave until we reach the starbase.”

He raises an eyebrow at that but does not protest anymore, and I can see traces of tiredness on his face. I realize that his initial protest was purely for form, and I wonder how much of it was just to give us an out of this far too emotional conversation. I’ve been wondering more and more lately how often this is really what the hobgoblin is doing. By god, he really has grown on me, has he not.

“Now go to sleep before we loose the best first officer in the fleet from his own pig-headed stubbornness.” I add. And if that did not shut him up! I leave him to his rest quite pleased with myself. We will get to the starbase in a few day. I hope the procedure works. If someone is stubborn enough to make it work, then Spock sure is. I go back to my office, and start doing some overdue paperwork.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is it, folks !   
> Hope you enjoyed this little fic !  
> I have some fanfics in other fandoms in the works for now, but I will go back to Star Trek. Bones is great to write.   
> Thanks to everyone who read, gave kudos, commented (Street_Nerd, this in large part means you).   
> Live long and prosper people !  
> Toinette, over and out.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone,  
> Welcome to this little fanfic, I hope you enjoy the ride.   
> This is my first attempt at first person in ages! I'm excited.   
> Feel free to comment, those bring me a lot of joy.   
> Live long and prosper,   
> :-)


End file.
